


The Thread of Life

by Aurum_Auri



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ice Prince Yuuri, M/M, Magic, Major Character Undeath, Reincarnation, it's happy I promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-06 07:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13406388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurum_Auri/pseuds/Aurum_Auri
Summary: A reincarnated ice prince and a lich go on a quest to resurrect their dogs, take over a kingdom, and maybe rekindle lost love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Ice Prince Yuuri art? Nonsense. Totally fake news.

 

> _Dear Mister Katsuki,_
> 
> _It is with a heavy heart that we regret to inform you that, despite your hard work and admiral skill, you were not accepted into the Thorizen College of Mages and Wizardry-_

Yuuri crushed the document in his fist, spurring his horse on a little faster. His whole body moved with the beast, the heavy gallop making his very bones seem to shudder, the cool fall air catching through his dark hair. There was a nervous, excitable feeling in his heart, accompanying the burning weight in his saddlebags.

He’d stolen from the Thorizen Temple.  What a brash, ridiculous, spiteful, impulsive kind of decision.

It was far too late for regrets now, and there were too many miles traveled to turn back.  And even if he had, there was no guarantee he’d ever see the light of day again. It wasn’t just a matter of what he stole, but also who he’d stolen it from.

The Temple of Thorizen had ruled these lands for a hundred years. A center of worship, the esteemed College of Wizardry held within its hallowed walls, and the political center of no fewer than twelve territories, the temple was one of the most powerful entities in the world. Everyone knew the story of how the King and Queen, left without an heir, had given their lands and major holdings to the Temple. They'd hoped prosperity would continue long after they were gone.

Yuuri had dreamed of making it into the College his entire life. He’d dedicated countless years of practice and effort. This was going to be his year. This was supposed to be the exam that placed him in the program, and then he would put him in contact with an endless list of some of the most powerful mages in the world.

And what had he done? He’d gone down in flames. He’d let his attention slip, let his chances vanish like smoke. And now he would make himself an enemy of state. That was, of course, only if they found out…

He closed his eyes and leaned a little further forward in the saddle, hoping to convince the horse to go just a hair faster. The more miles between him and the temple, the better he’d feel.

Home awaited, no less than a three week ride away in its entirety.

It was a village in the small country of Eiselin, bled dry over long years. From the sight of it on the horizon, it had been bled a little drier since he’d left. Yuuri slowed his horse as he approached. The leaves were turning shades of gold around him, a bit of a bite to the air. The dirt path was thickly furrowed with ruts. He had to take care to avoid sending the horse down a course that would twist her ankles.

His cloak whipped around his legs as he slowed to a gentle trot.

People were a little more hunched than when he left, a little skinnier, a little more gaunt. Their cheeks were sallower and their clothes a little more threadbare. And yet still, here and there, they lifted their heads, watching as he passed. Yuuri didn’t deserve their smiles. Not after the dark thing he had done.

“Yuuri’s home!” they said. “Yuuri’s back!” Yuuri hung his head, watching from the corners of his eyes.

“Thanks for telling us you were coming home,” a voice called, teasing.

Yuuri whipped around in the saddle. Long, brown hair. A woman, willowy, graceful, but strong. He could smell whiffs of potent elderflower wine in the air. “Minako?”

“Is that any way to greet your fans?” she asked. Yuuri’s fingers tightened on the reins. Older than his mother, and didn’t look a day over twenty five. Yuuko called her a vampire. A nice one, at least, most of the time. Yuuri placed his bets on a secret fountain of youth. Minako would never reveal the truth either way.

“Hello,” he said, giving them a shaky wave.

“You’ve been gone a long time,” Minako said. She fell into step beside the horse.

“Things don’t change here.”

Minako pressed her lips into a tight line. “You’d be surprised. Taxes went up. And there’s a tithe now.”

A splash of ice hit his veins. His head whipped up toward home in a panic. “The onsen?”

“Saved. Barely. I almost wasn’t in time. Your parents hate being in debt but it's better than losing the place.”

Yuuri didn’t feel better. “I shouldn’t have left,” he said. Guilt swam through his veins, heavy as lead and cold like ice.  “I should have stayed to help.”

“You would have been drafted into the templar army three years ago. It would have helped nothing,” Minako said briskly. Yuuri scowled into the dirt. What a helpless feeling. He hated being helpless. It made him feel sick with hate. “Good to see you though,” Minako said. “Are you here until the next exam? Your family will be glad to see you.”

Yuuri should his head. He could see the hot spring drawing ever closer. “I can’t stay long. I’ve got something I have to do. I don’t know how long it will take.”

Minako fell silent beide him. “They miss you, you know. They all do.”

Yuuri didn’t answer. He took his horse around to the side. The couldn’t afford upkeep on it, but Yuuri had spent too much gold on the beast to get home. It was an attractive enough horse, a blue roan with a long mane. But it had been a long ride. She’d need a few days rest before they pressed on. “I’ll take care of her,” Minako offered. “Go on, see your family.”

He thanked her.

Five years was a long time to be away. He shuffled awkwardly inside, shifting on his heels in the front entry of the onsen. “Hello?” he called.

“Yuuri!” his mother cried. She ran around the corner.

His mother was so thin. It broke Yuuri’s heart. “Hi, mom,” he said. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“My Yuuri, I’m so glad you’re home!” She bounced on her heels. A familiar light glittered in her eyes. She looked tired, but pleased.

“A lot’s happened, hasn’t it?” Yuuri said. His mom nodded. She smiled, the same warm, hopeful thing Yuuri had missed. “Say your goodbyes, why don’t you. We can catch up over dinner.”

Yuuri shifted the bag on his shoulder and nodded. “Did you put him in the box?” Yuuri asked.

His mom nodded. “Right over there.” She pointed around the corner to a small room that had never seen much use. Yuuri stepped inside.

There was a small shrine, a single stick of unlit incense resting on its top. Beside the incense, a wooden box was sealed tight, its lid pressed firmly down onto it. He fell to his knees before the shrine. The incense he lit with a flick of his fingers, the little candle-flame fire wisp simple enough even for a catastrophe like him.

Getting the box here had been an expensive impulse, but Yuuri couldn't bring himself to regret it. A friend of his, skilled in enchanting, had placed the box with a repose spell that kept the body as peaceful as the day it had been put in. Yuuri estimated Vicchan had been lost six or seven days before going in. Cutting it a hair close, but it would be alright.

Yuuri combed his fingers through the fur. It was cold enough that rot had not taken it. Still soft. He closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he breathed. Smoke from the incense curled in a thread toward the ceiling. He'd been such a good dog. Such a good boy. Even when Yuuri left him, he still stood vigilant over the onsen, watching for intruders and asking only for head scratches and scraps in return.

He could see the strange lay of bones where the rabbit snare had snapped his neck. An accident. No one was at fault they said. Yuuri’s heart felt differently.

It was his.

He should have brought Vicchan along. He shouldn't have left him. Yuuri dropped the bag on the floor beside him, hearing the heavy rattle of books and clothes.

He heard his sister stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Mari brought with her the scent of slowly burning tobacco, and another source of smoke. She said nothing for a long time. The stick slowly burnt down in silence.

“Minako says you’re leaving again.”

“Just wanted to pick him up,” Yuuri said. He gestured to the box. “I'm… I'm sorry. I let you down.” His eyes darted over to the bag.

“I hope you're not planning something stupid,” she said. She breathed deeply of the burning plants. The acrid smoke burned his nose. “But if you are… I won't rat you out.” Without another word, she turned and started to leave. “Good to see you, baby bro.”

Yuuri smiled to himself.

He hefted the box in his arms and tucked it away in his bag beside the other things. A minor spatial distortion enchantment gave him a few extra inches of space inside, and though it was a tight fit, he made it work. His last days at home were something he would make sure he enjoyed. They might be his last days ever.

He caught up over dinner, protesting when a steaming bowl of his favorite food was slid before him. “Mom, I don’t need katsudon, save the meat for yourself.”

His mom waved him away. “Nonsense, Yuuri. Just once won’t hurt, and the Nishigoris were butchering their hog anyway.”

“How are they?” Yuuri asked.

“They’re doing well enough. Well as anyone else. The triplets are getting so big these days. Precocious as ever. They said they had a gift for you, if you ever came home.”

Yuuri hummed. “They didn’t need to do that.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t say no to you refreshing the cooling charm on their cellar as thanks. It was flickering over the summer.”

Yuuri smiled. “I can at least do that much.” He headed over there after dinner, bundling up against the cold and carrying a small collection of winterwolf teeth.

The blacksmith’s specialized in metal and leatherwork, but the forges were burning low when he arrived, smoldering softly in the evening light. Yuuri knocked on the door.

“We’re closed for the night!” a woman called. “Come back tomorrow morning!”

“You’re even closed to an old friend?” Yuuri called back. The door whipped open, revealing a woman with bright eyes and hair pulled back from her face. She squealed excitedly.

“Yuuri!” She dragged him inside. “Come in, come in, out of the cold! It’s so good to see you!”

“Yuuri’s here! Yuuri’s home!” a chorus of small voices chimed, joyful and bright. Yuuri was suddenly attacked by a trio of young girls who clung to his legs. “Show us something amazing, show us, show us,” one of them begged, and the other two joined in. Yuuko tried to shuffle them away with a laugh.

“It’s been awhile since you’ve seen them, right? They’re your biggest fans. We toldl them stories and they’re slightly obsessed. Come on, girls, Yuuri just got home. He can show you something another day.”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri said.

Yuuko smiled. “You don’t have to indulge them if you don’t want to. So you’re not upset?”

Yuuri thought about it for a second, but the truth was that he liked this new course. It was the first time in a long time he’d considered using magic for something selfish, and it made him feel surprisingly good. “I was, but I’ve got a new adventure to look forward to,” he said.

The girls looked up in excited awe. Yuuri heard a bellowing laugh behind him.

Still a big man despite lean times, Nishigori towered over Yuuri, throwing an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders and grabbing his stomach. “You’re hale and hearty,” he said. “How is Thozidide?”

“Stuffy,” Yuuri said. “I managed to make a few gold off some spells and some ice shows, but nothing compares to coming home. Mom said your cellar was acting up?”

Yuuko waved him away. “Nothing you need to worry about. That old charm has been on the fritz forever. Nothing we can’t handle, and it’s cold enough now that it doesn’t even matter.”

“Nonsense,” Yuuri said. “It’s easier to fix when it’s cold anyway. No sense leaving it.”

The girls let in an excited breath. “Is Yuuri gonna do magic?” Lutz asked.

Yuuri nodded. “It should only take me a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Yuuri,” she said, and Yuuri was taken aback by the warmth she put behind it.

He rolled back his sleeves and pulled the winterwolf teeth from his pocket. “Do you have a mortar and pestle I can borrow?”

Yuuko grabbed one for him and he made short work of the ice-laced fangs. Crystals crawled in fractals up the side of the stone as he reduced them and tipped the resulting powder into his hand. He took it down to the cellar door, sprinkling some on the threshold and around the edges of the perimeter. For the time of year, it was startlingly bare. Yuuri tried not to think about it. He couldn’t afford the distraction while casting. He dusted his hands off and began the incantation.

He felt it buzz under his fingers, creeping through his blood, sluggish and cold as ice in his veins. The pale blue glow of it lit the gloomy cellar. The words fell from his lips, arcane and unnatural, harsh and so pure on his tongue. It was the language of magic, raw and wild, scarcely controlled.

He let it burst out of him, and he couldn’t help but smile through the sudden wave of exhaustion. It was a good spell, unbutchered and strong. It would last a long time.

Ice always was his strong suit, though. It was an inexplicable affinity for it, a comfort with the cold that he felt deep in his bones. He was more comfortable with it than with any other sort of spell, and the elemental nature of it suited him well.

“Wooooow,” the girls gasped. “Again! Again!”

“Later,” Yuuko soothed. “Thank you again, Yuuri. We really do appreciate your help.Come on up, I’ll get you some tea for your troubles.”

Over warm drinks, Yuuri caught up with his old friends. “You said you did some shows in Thozidide?” Nishigori asked.

Yuuri nodded. “That old spell we used to freeze and smooth ponds… it spread around a bit. People liked having smooth ice to skate on, even in the summer, I guess.”

“Taught them a thing or two, did you?” Yuuko teased.

Yuuri sputtered. “Really, they do it much better than I can. They just never saw a need before. Fashion trends always come in and out over time. People won’t care about it by the time I go back.”

“How are your boots holding up, by the way?”

Yuuri’s head dropped. “I’m sorry, I tried to take care of them, but… I used them so much, they ended up wearing out. I got them repaired, but they just weren’t the same. I was actually hoping to buy a new pair from you before I left again.”

Yuuko beamed. Nishigori laughed. “No need for that.” He stood and pulled a burlap sack from a work chest nearby. He pulled the drawstrings apart and peeled the sackcloth back, revealing finely crafted, black leather boots with beautiful steel blades on the soles. This… was this the gift his mother had said they had for him?

“I can’t just take these,’ he breathed. “I can’t-” he fumbled in his pockets, reaching for coins.

Yuuko pushed them toward him. “We don’t want your money, Yuuri, you’ve done enough for us over the years. And you fixed our cellar, which would have been pricey to take care of if we went through the temple. Take them, Yuuri, and remember us in that big old city.”

“I will,” Yuuri breathed. Yuuko took his hand in hers and smiled.

“You’re really alright?” she asked, just to make sure. “I know you were close to Vicchan. I just want to make sure you aren’t going to do something crazy.”

Yuuri laughed. "You and Mari both. But I don’t think I can make any promises.”

She squeezed his hand. “Come home to us, Yuuri. You’ve always got a place here.”

* * *

Three days later, Yuuri had his horse saddled once more and his saddlebags filled with nonperishable rations for the road.

He stopped in his room one last time, pulling out the heavy burden burning a hole in his bag for the last month. An ancient book, penned in fading ink. Many of the legends within were half lost to time, unreadable and too light to make out even with the strongest of spells. But Yuuri had found one within that stood out, one that had given him this terrible, twisted, forbidden idea.

He cross referenced his maps one last time, checking and double checking it against the legends to make sure he hadn’t recorded something wrong. Five days north, there would be an abandoned castle. Once the seat of power of all of Eiselin, it was now a pit of necromancy and powerful magics. It was the only place Yuuri could think of to learn how to carry out his goal.

He would resurrect Vicchan.

Necromancy was forbidden, but Vicchan deserved better. He hadn’t been dead that long. There was still time to save him. Yuuri packed his things back up, bid his family goodbye, and finally set out. He was going to find the secret if it killed him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri finds the abandoned castle, as well as a few strange secrets within its crumbling walls.

The road was long and cold. The weather didn’t bother Yuuri as much as it could have, which was nice, because his grasp on delicate magics that would warm him up without requiring actual fire were shaky at best. 

He didn’t encounter many problems, beyond the occasional chilly night and sad meal of rations. Nuts and dried fruits, a bit of sausage, and a bit of cheese. Not exciting, but it kept well on the road. 

Eiselin was poor, but not particularly dangerous. What few bandits there were could usually tell by the shabby robes and witchlight Yuuri carried that he probably had nothing on him beyond a few material spell components and a possibly nasty ability to blast fireballs. Not something any intelligent thief would dare risk. 

The map led him to a short span of forest, past thickets and snow-choked pathways. He almost missed the castle completely in his search.

It was shadowed under a cliff, crumbling and decrepit, inches from total collapse. The pavestones were cracked with weeds and loose in the earth, the gardens a wild mess of untamed life. For now, branches were bare, but the spindly overgrowth made it clear that, come spring, the castle would likely be completely hidden from sight once the ivy bloomed and trees flowered. 

When he dropped to his feet, a cloud of dust rose around him. He tied the horse to a piece of broken gate outside, and he started to venture past broken down wooden doors, rotted through and festering with decay. 

The front hall was massive, though in poor condition. Pieces of the ceiling had broken through and were threateningly spitting dust with every footfall. He eyed it warely as he went, devoting half his attention to the status of the castle and half to his surroundings. 

Things had been picked over. Yuuri could see where gilt had been peeled away, where candlesticks had been pulled from walls. He held his witchlight a little higher, letting it bathe the halls in long shadows.

Little was left. Thieves seemed to have taken anything of any value that could be carried, and a great many things that seemed like they could not. The dust made him sneeze.

Pain flared in his temples. He blew his nose into a handkerchief and tried to rub the pressure away. It was making him see stars. He sagged against the wall, and it quickly passed, leaving a faintly nauseous feeling in its wake. Time to keep moving on.

He could feel residues of ancient magic set into the walls, scars of a battle long past. Skeletons were scattered around the halls, some in mismatched pieces of ruined armor, some bare, picked clean by scavengers. The only weapons left were too rusted to do anything with. He could see charred spans of wall that bore silhouettes of skeletons, which must have taken blasts of fire and been incinerated. 

Whispers of magic chased down the halls like a breeze, stirring up dust and sending old bones rattling. It was eerie, but harmless. 

Yuuri frisked the skeletons for anything useful, but many were simply piles of clean bones. He pushed them aside, clearing the way. A thump caught his attention when he shook out a rug, hoping to knock some of the skeletons aside. He picked his way over and found a decaying old journal, its cover half eaten away, and the ink faint but mostly legible in some places. He thumbed to the first page he could find where the majority of it could be read.

> **_Green Moon, 2nd day, 790_ **
> 
> _ The beloved Prince has been taken hostage. It is on the lips of everyone who can speak, everyone in every kingdom within ten day’s ride knows the news.  _
> 
> _ In the night, riding a thunderous snowstorm rippling with lightning, the Lich arrived in Eiselin. The darkest, most vile creature known to man, he is a terrible necromancer who must be feared and abhorred above all else.  _
> 
> _ He blanketed the city in piles of snow. Everywhere the flakes touched the earth, bones erupted out of the frozen soil, skeletons assembling themselves before people’s eyes. The spirits of the deceased came screaming out of their graves.  _
> 
> _ Some people went fleeing from Eiselin, grabbing what little they could and making for the safety of neighboring kingdoms. They carried the stories on their lips, of the Crown Prince forced to open his castle to the greatest evil the world has ever seen. Some said the brave Prince held his head high, tears shimmering on his cheeks as the Lich landed on the balcony of his very bedroom. People claimed they could see the Lich’s glowing eyes in the darkness from miles away.  _
> 
> _ The Temple is in an uproar. Thorizen forbid necromancy for a reason. It is a vile practice, against the teachings of healing and forgiveness which we preach.  _
> 
> _ My brothers and sisters chomp at the bit to do something. Sit idle, they tell us! Don’t do something rash. _
> 
> _ They tell us they’re evaluating the situation, but what is there to evaluate? The Prince could die any day. What pain must he be suffering, tortured at the hands of the monster. He has always been a proud man, our Prince. But even he cannot withstand the evils forever. I have volunteered my services if they are needed.  _
> 
> _ We can’t afford to wait much longer.  _

Many pages were rotted away, or the ink was too faded to make out. Many passages could be read partially, but were so rarely readable that many of the pages might as well have been empty. Yuuri thumbed a few pages forward, squinting to make out the faint ink on another page. 

> **_Gorge Moon, 18th day, 790_ **
> 
> _ We are being mobilized at long last. Communion with the gods has revealed powerful necromantic magics being put to work in the area. Life detection spells reveal that the Lich has not yet slaughtered the entirety of the castle’s residents, though scrying spells fail at every attempt. We cannot get an image of the situation. _
> 
> _ Word from the Prince has made its way to our gates, an official declaration sealed with wax and pressed with his sigil. We can only surmise his request to be left alone was made under extreme duress. If our proud Prince has broken, we can only fear the worst.  _

Yuuri slowly closed the book, looking back at the pieces of armor on a few of the skeletons. While many were bare, a few of the more tattered pieces of armor remaining bore a few scraps of cloth clinging to the warped steel plates. 

Yuuri inspected closer. Paladins of Thorizen’s holy order. He looked back at the journal, and slowly tucked it carefully into his bag. He wanted to read more when there was time. Whatever battle had taken place here, a hundred long years ago, it had nearly leveled the castle and claimed so many, many lives. 

And if this didn’t work out, more research on this Lich could be just what Yuuri needed. If something so powerful could raise hordes of skeletons at a command, surely somewhere in its vanity it would have recorded its knowledge, and Yuuri could only hope that it would have written down a spell for resurrection. 

He found a set of stairs and started to climb, continuing his search, though it bore no fruit. The library was in tatters, the books too destroyed to make any use of. Many of the rooms were as cleanly picked as the rest of the castle. He gave each one a cursory frisk but found nothing of consequence in any of them. 

At last, after hours of searching, Yuuri found what appeared to be the Crown Prince’s chambers. 

Things were picked as clean here as anywhere else, though the books were slightly more undisturbed, despite being nearly completely rotted away. Yuuri tried the dressers and cabinets, as he had in every other room, and came up with moths and rags. He tried the bedside table and found it locked.

Curious, Yuuri cast an unlocking spell over it. It didn’t go. 

Yuuri rounded on the table, suddenly extremely curious. He grabbed a piece of rubble and tried to smash the lock, but found the stone crumbling in his hand. The lock was unscathed. Pieces of stone and splintered wood surrounded the cabinet. Yuuri put his thumb and forefinger to his chin, circling it. 

He tried to push it out of place, but it wouldn’t go. Suddenly Yuuri needed to know what was inside. 

He raised a hand, firing a fierce blast of fire at it, but the fire vanished into the lock with a whisper. He stooped beside it, pouring more magic into the lockbreaking spell. He could feel the tumblers shudder, caught between an ancient spell and fresh magic. Yuuri pushed, forcing it to give, willing threads of magic to weave in and out, pulling at it. 

His body felt cold, and he tapped into it, focusing on the chill and pouring it into the lock. It was metal. Cold would make it brittle and weak. Ice blossomed around the keyhole, and still Yuuri pushed, forcing more and more magic inside. The stubborn thing resisted, fighting longer and longer until suddenly it popped. 

The magic wheezed from the keyhole like grey sludge. 

Victorious, Yuuri jerked the drawer open. First was a tinted glass bottle. He uncapped it and swished the liquid inside. Some sort of oil. He squinted at it, confused, then paused. He glanced at the bed, the hangings ripped from the ceiling and the frame in pieces, then back at the table. Yuuri flushed, quickly stoppering the bottle and tossing it aside. 

Sure, a prince probably got lucky every now and again, but Yuuri didn’t really need a reminder of a deceased crown prince’s love life. Remarkably well preserved, though. 

He kept digging. No one locked a drawer that fiercely for lubricant. He pulled out a Thorizen amulet and a finely bound journal. Yuuri thumbed to the front page. Neat handwriting spidered across the page.

> **_3rd era, Year 788, Giver’s Moon, 12th day_ **
> 
> _ It isn't that I particularly want to leave. But the simple truth is that it has been long enough. I have no desire to see the changes in the world since last I stepped from my cloistered hideaway in the mountains, it's been too many years and I've grown bitter to the whole idea. That doesn't mean that I can sit here, idle, for another indeterminate period of time, letting the world slip away around me. Yakov would be disappointed in me. I know he would be. I can almost hear his yelling from beyond the grave. If anyone could, it would be him.  _
> 
> _ In a moment of clarity, I have already made contact with the family ruling Eiselin, the new name of the land I once called home. They live some distance away, also owning several other neighboring regions. They marveled at and accepted my claims of foreign nobility. They wish to extend their invitation over a span of a month at least, so as to better ‘introduce me to local society’. Of course I have no interest in ingraining myself in the tedious local politics, but having contacts in high places will do my research only good, and there is much learning to do. This is what they call sufficient motivation.  _
> 
> _ Tonight and tomorrow, I will pack, and then I will teleport to a nearby forest. I do not particularly want anyone to get an idea of the extent of my knowledge, but I have no time to waste on a carriage. It is a risk I must take.  _
> 
> _ Much as I wish to keep my collection of journals close, they are safer left at home. This new one should be sufficient for my needs.  _
> 
> **_3rd era, Year 788, Giver’s Moon, 13th day_ **
> 
> _ I've traveled the world for many years but I've never met a character quite like the Crown Prince. The family is rather boring and average, stuffy king with a cold queen, though they made attempts at being friendly to show off their latest acquisition, me, in the best light at the ball they plan to hold in my honor. They wish to hold it at the start of the new year to show me off, as though I was some maid in need of a husband, and while I'm entertained at the notion, I begged them it wasn't necessary. But they wished to likewise show off their son for marriage, and the King and Queen could not be moved.  _
> 
> _ The Prince stormed from the room. I paid him no mind.  _
> 
> _ At first he struck me as rather plain. He wasn't a flashy thing, unlike his parents, and he struck me as rather rude initially, denying my request for a tour of the grounds and leaving for his chambers.  _
> 
> _ The next I saw him was when I snuck into the library late at night, hoping to steal upon some glint of new learning. I came in to find the candles aglow, tallow dripping down their sides, and the Crown Prince snoozing quite peacefully in a chaise. He had a large book across this lap, held open by a thumb. The spectacles on his nose had slipped low.  _
> 
> _ Altogether, it was a slightly more charming second impression, although I thought to myself it would be fitting that the spoiled Prince be more pleasant in sleep than in wakefulness.  I snuck back to my chambers, afraid of being caught, and resolved to try once more later.  _

Not the prince’s? Someone visiting the prince, someone who knew him, if only slightly. A researcher, clearly wiley enough to deceive the royal family. Yuuri turned the page. 

> **_3rd era, Year 788, Giver’s Moon, 14th day_ **
> 
> _ Ah, what a fool I was. How was I to know what I would find?   _
> 
> _ The library overlooked a pond, and the next attempt I made at venturing into the library, I discovered the prince to be otherwise occupied in the most bewitching activity I'd seen in my life.  _
> 
> _ He was dressed in white, the cape swirling around him like a cold winter’s breeze. His boots were attached to slim blades of metal, which he used to glide across the frozen pond below and give him the look of flying. He turned and spun and jumped, moving as though the sheet of ice was a dance floor instead of the slick death I perceived it as. I watched from the window in awe. Magic danced on his fingers. Streams of snowflakes and light caught the air at his whim. _
> 
> _ An eagle-eye spell gave me a closer view, despite the distance, and I marveled at the expression he wore. I had never seen such fierce joy and determination coexisting before. He was beautiful.  _
> 
> _ He sprawled on the ice, boot catching a rough patch, and his beautiful expression became fury. Not at the ice, not at the boots which had failed him, but at himself, at his own failings. “More speed,” he mouthed to himself, shaking the snow from his gloves. “Push harder off the ice… next time for sure.” _
> 
> _ He started again, weaving beauty through his fingers and music with his body, and I wondered if this was what infatuation felt like. Impossible, of course, given what I am. But who knows with these things... _

Oh. Someone who might have felt something slightly stronger for the prince than passing interest. Yuuri tucked the journal beside the first, intrigued. The prince’s mysterious admirer might have been someone very special, for his words to have earned a place beside the prince’s bed, stored safely inside a locked cabinet. At the very least, he could offer a different insight into the Lich’s invasion.

Yuuri stood and walked on, still searching. The lich, if he’d come to this castle, must have made a lair of it. It was the only logical explanation. The residual necromantic energy lingering made it too likely. The unquiet bones, the distant screaming of souls, it was too unsettling. 

Yuuri perused the room, stopping beside a reading nook. Powerful magic radiated from here, faint but tingling familiarly under Yuuri’s skin. It felt just the same as the magic from the lock. He trailed his fingers over the wall, pushing out with magic. Stones glowed. 

Yuuri startled back, watching as stones shifted and molded, folding back and forming into a doorway leading to another room that didn’t seem to fit within the architecture of the castle. Yuuri held his breath. The room within was pitch black, musty and dusty. 

A throbbing built in his temples, fiercer than before. The feeling of magic was twisted and alien, but Yuuri recognized it all the same. It called to him, drawing him into the darkness. Yuuri pulled out the witchlight.

The room was thickly caked with dust and cobwebs. He dragged a finger down it as he walked, leaving a line cut through along the table. Dusty potions had become sludge caking the bottoms of glass bottles. The musty smell of old books was almost overwhelming, but there was little to no rot. Manuscripts and documents covered every available surface, scrolls, portfolios, documents, pieces of parchment forgotten for a hundred years. 

Yuuri turned his gaze up. The ceiling was enchanted, swirling with pinpoints of light: mostly white, but some blue, some red, some brilliant gold. They formed constellations Yuuri could pick out by name, then swirled into patterns that were unrecognizable. It stole the air from his lungs, grabbed his attention and held it spellbound. 

He let out a shuddering breath, and it rose to the ceiling like a departing soul. 

It was so cold.

The calling beckoned, drawing him further within. Yuuri followed it, picking his way around the tables. The place looked undisturbed, as though untouched for the entire hundred years the castle had sat empty. He found himself standing before a span of wall, but it was not a wall. 

He couldn’t explain how he knew, the thought simply popped, unbidden, into his head. Yuuri waved a hand over it, dispelling the magic easier than he expected to. The pain in his head was bringing tears blinking into the corners of his eyes. 

The image shimmered, revealing a hidden niche holding a book and a bag. Yuuri pulled the book out first, setting the bag aside, where it rattled noisily.

The book was heavy in his hands, the pages yellowed slightly, but still in good condition, the black leather cover still supple. He opened the cover, and found a howling of necromantic energy come pouring forth from the pages, crashing like waves over his skin. It was icy cold, frigid as the grip of death, and Yuuri gasped. 

He knew what it was. The lich’s spellbook. He’d expected something gruesome, perhaps bound in human skin and written in blood. Something terrible for how horrible a lich sounded.  Instead he found a simple spellbook with a name printed inside: Victor Nikiforov. The spidery handwriting inside was neat, the notes pristine, though difficult to fully understand. 

Many of the spells were incredibly advanced, deeply encoded in runes and symbols as many spellbooks were. Yuuri’s own spellbook was written in the language of his village mixed with many of the runes that wizards often used, as well as the common tongue. It was impossible for anyone outside of him to decipher.

As he thumbed through, he felt a strange whisper stir in the back of his head. The symbols were none he recognized, many of them absolutely ancient, and yet… they seemed to make sense. Yuuri could see a spell for summoning a storm. He could see one for summoning static fireballs that could ignite on command. Runes that could combust at a trigger. 

He dropped, cross-legged, to the floor, flipping quickly, skimming over titles of the pages. There was some form of organization within, though at first it seemed rather nonsensical. He flipped past the thick section detailing elemental spells and soon found himself in the necromancy section. 

There it was. ‘Raise Dead’, for things less than ten days old. He just needed a diamond, it seemed

His heart sank. He would never find a diamond as large as what the spell called for. His eyes slowly flicked over toward the bag that had rattled. “No,” he said out loud, narrowing his eyes. His voice echoed through the room, making it feel even emptier. “That’s impossible.”

He poked his fingers through the mouth of the drawstring bag. Something cool touched his fingertips, unforgiving and hard. He jerked it open. Gemstones. So many gemstones, glittering in the faint glow of the witchlight, brilliant and a thousand different colors. 

Yuuri let out a sound like a wounded animal. He’d never seen so many jewels in one place in his life. He frantically dug through the bag, sorting them by piece and color. So many sapphires, emeralds, rubies, stones that shined with every color under the sun. He pulled out a fairly sizable clear crystal.

He might have cried a little, clutching the stone close.

“You lich bastard, you’re alright in my book,” Yuuri whispered. The diamond was perfect. And the rest… Yuuri saw gold. He could bring it home, share it with his family, with his whole town. He cinched the bag closed once more, shoved the spellbook and bag beside the journals and the box containing Vicchan, and ran. 

The crumbling castle threatened to collapse on his head, but Yuuri made it out unscathed. He freed the reins from the gate, launching himself over the saddle of the horse and taking off. There was no time to waste. 

He rode fast and hard. He needed a place to pick it all over, not only the spell, but also the journals he had found. Simply finding the spell wasn’t enough. He needed to understand it, figure out every facet of how it worked, how his hands should move, how his words should be spoken, how the materials should be prepared. It could take days or weeks, depending on how encoded the ritual was. 

Only a day’s ride from the castle, the Eiselin capital had flourished into a thriving city. Yuuri made his way there, now hoping to spend at least one night below a roof, in a bed that wasn’t made of earth and his bedroll. 

It hadn’t been a thing to consider before, but now, with the books and jewels weighing down his saddlebags, nothing was going to stop him. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri does a bit of research

Yuuri’s hands were shaking as he took the little bag of gold, his eyes wide. 

He’d made do in Thozidide. He had made enough to keep himself fed and alive while he studied, but there had never been much excess. The pawn shop dealer probably shorted him a great deal in the exchange, but Yuuri had only converted a pair of small sapphires to gold, and still the sum still felt kingly in his hands. He'd never seen so much glittering gold, and it was all his. 

Yuuri found himself a room at an inn that was a few steps up from his usual fare, finding himself in small, but very clean, very cozy room with a well-turned bed and a clean smell. With the room found, he headed back out and purchased himself a new set of clothes, replacing the thread-worn tunic and leggings, even buying himself a fresh pair of leather boots with sturdy, durable soles.  His new clothes were a soft, rich blue color that made Yuuri feel a little richer just by wearing them, and made his belt look shabby enough that he replaced it, too. 

Dinner at the inn was roasted poultry and a bowl of stew served warm with bread. Not as good as home, but better than he’d eaten in the week since he’d left. Over the meal, he opened the journal he had found locked in the bedside table, more curious about it than the other. 

> **_3rd era, Year 788, Giver’s Moon, 15th day_ **
> 
> _ Oh, what have I done. I asked the Prince about his pastime at the pond and he flushed the most beautiful red, stammering out protests and lies and half-hearted cover ups.  _
> 
> _ I told him he looked beautiful.  _
> 
> _ He closed his mouth. Looked at me measuringly, then in shock. And he ran.  _
> 
> _ I don't know what I did to upset him so. I found him back in the library some time later, but he had no books with him. Instead he paced the length of the shelves, combing anxious hands through his dark hair. It falls so messily in his eyes, I want to comb it away and see the soft warmth of his eyes beneath. I feel selfish for the first time in years. I feel fluttery and light.  _
> 
> _ I apologized to him, for whatever I might have done to upset him. I asked him how he was able to skate on the ice. It had been a warm few days during the winter, and the ice should have been too thin to bear his weight like that.  _
> 
> _ He hesitated. But then he led me down to the ice, and he told me this: “I don't tell people this, because I'm not really any good at it, and I don't want them getting the wrong idea. Both about my skating, and about this. Please, don't be too shocked.” I watched him patiently, and he placed his palms on the ice. There was a soft crack, and threads of blue spilled from his fingers, bleeding into the ice. The span of ice grew lighter in color the thicker it became, his breathing becoming labored and sweat dripping from his brow.  _
> 
> _ I was as spellbound as the ice.  _
> 
> _ He shifted his weight awkwardly there on the bank. “So. Uh. That's how.” _
> 
> _ I remembered how he'd lost his footing on the uneven ice. I placed my own palms to the ice, and whispered the spell softly. Like a razor dragged over skin, it shed its rough surface, becoming mirror-like and smooth in a spray of ice shavings. I pulled a breeze from the clouds to sweep the mess away.  _
> 
> _ The Crown Prince stared at me like I'd grown a second head, stammering and flushed, his eyes large as saucers. “Would you please teach me?” I asked him. The pretty little Prince couldn't seem to believe his eyes or ears.  _
> 
> _ “Only if you teach me how to do that,” he replied.  _
> 
> _ I smiled, scooping up a handful of snow from the ground. I showed off perhaps a little, growing roses from the snow, letting them bloom in fractals before his eyes. His eyes widened further in wonder. I told him, “It's a deal.” _
> 
> **_3rd era, Year 788, Giver’s Moon, 25th day_ **
> 
> _ Oh it has just been the most dizzying whirlwind of days. Everywhere I turn someone seeks my attention on something. I have accidentally revealed myself as someone who knows a fair bit about many things, and the King and Queen seek trivia about foreign lands like candies from a tray. Meanwhile the Crown Prince has a streak of stubbornness to put any to shame. When his feet are on the ice, he is a man possessed. He cannot be moved, even when I smile at him and bat my eyes.  _
> 
> _ Any other time, the look works perfectly, and the prince is shamelessly weak to it. But on the ice, it loses every last drop of its power. It's absolutely fascinating to me. _
> 
> _ A pity his self confidence, or at least, the lack thereof, is equally stubborn. I have never met a more timid prince, nor one more lacking in conviction in himself and his own decisions. It would infuriate me if it didn't transfix me so. It seems paradoxical, his command of the ice, the musical way his body moves, and then the doubts juxtaposed. He is not a poor sorcerer. In fact, he has an incredible amount of potential within him, just waiting to be released.  _
> 
> _ I want to see him standing above all else. I want to see him rule this world.  _
> 
> _ Being around him makes my knees weak, makes me feel so old, but so young. I have not ever been truly in love before. I don't know what this feeling is, or even if it is right for me to name it love. But I can't breathe when his hands touch mine, and when he looks at me the world must stop.  _
> 
> _ The time we spend skating is precious to me. All I know is that I don't want to stop. Not for all the knowledge in the world. I have not celebrated the day of my birth in many years, but this is more of a gift than I think I've ever gotten the entirety of my life. I will treasure these memories into eternity.  _
> 
> **_3rd era, Year 788, Giver’s Moon, 27th day_ **
> 
> _ I must be dead. Except if I am dead, this is heaven, and I have done no deed good enough to earn a heaven so sweet.  _
> 
> _ I asked him to show me around the gardens, hoping that I might get a chance to confess to him how scared I was of this strange feeling overtaking me. He looked scared, too. As I tried to build my own nerve, careful not to show a single trace of my unease, we stopped in the shadows of a large tree, its boughs so thick with ice it couldn't be seen through. _
> 
> _ His kiss tasted like the apple tarts from lunch, and a hint of the fear I mirrored myself. I had never been so surprised by anything in my life. He tried to apologize, to dismiss it, and I kissed him again, until all there was left in the world was him and me. We laughed like children, and we kissed more, growing spindly flowers out of the ice and shaping them into crowns of icicles. _
> 
> _ We held hands on the ice. I have never felt lighter.  _

Yuuri turned the page, eager to read more of the Prince’s mysterious lover, but found a large chunk of the pages were forcibly removed, the edges ragged where they were torn from the book. The entries picked back up, but at a later date.

He thumbed back to the previous page, checking the dates, then forward once more, as though the pages would have somehow magically appeared. They were gone. 

> **_3rd era, Year 788, Night’s Moon, 13th day_ **
> 
> _ The day of the ball is tomorrow.  _
> 
> _ Our whirlwind romance is like something from a dream. We keep it secret from the King and Queen, who would disapprove of our union. As Crown Prince, it is his duty to marry some princess from another land.  _
> 
> _ I know this, I do, I know this is foolishness. He is from another world than I. He is perfect and I am the boogeyman. I am the nightmare of children’s worst dreams, I am the thing kingdoms fear. I shouldn't do this.  _
> 
> _ But he is pulling me to his bedroom, telling me to put my quill down and pay attention to his gorgeous thighs, the smooth plane of his stomach. His kisses are sweeter than decadent dessert, and I love him. I do. I am helpless to resist anything he does.  _
> 
> **_3rd era, Year 788, Night’s Moon, 14th day_ **
> 
> _ My love has pulled me aside, stricken in fear. When I heard the news, I began to shake.  _
> 
> _ He is to meet a wife tonight. He has been given ownership of the Kingdom of Eiselin, the newest name for the lands I once called home.  _
> 
> _ He will rule it until the day his parents pass and he takes the throne, during which time he will gain control over the remaining territories. And his parents insist on a fitting match, one that will provide a substantial dowry and many heirs.  _
> 
> _ I held my love in my arms as he cried.  _
> 
> _ “I'm supposed to rule,” he said. “Eiselin has always been mine.” And though I hadn't known this, it was true: it was in his titles the day he was announced, Crown Prince, King of Eiselin, First of his name, and a list of meaningless words I paid no mind to at the time. “I'm scared, Vitya,” he whispered to me. “I don't want a princess. I want you.” _
> 
> _ I am selfish. So selfish.  _
> 
> _ “I have an idea,” I told him. I can only hope this isn't a terrible one.  _
> 
> **_3rd era, Year 788, Night’s Moon, 14th day_ **
> 
> _ This was a terrible idea. Not at first. At first we danced together like lovers, rejoicing in the feeling of being free for all to see. I’ve never seen a vision more beautiful than my beloved, the way the white and blue of his robes gleamed against the softness of his skin, the dark of his hair, and the glittering warmth of his eyes. I was helpless under his spell, and he under mine.  _
> 
> _ But as our dances grew heated, as our lips brushed, we were forcibly separated. The uproar was almost worth it, despite the pained expression on his face as I was dragged away. I played along, not wishing to see anyone hurt that he might care about, and I was thrown in the dungeons. My sweet, my love, he found the guards sleeping when he stormed down to see me. A little spell, innocent mischief. No harm done. He reached through the bars and we kissed. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry you're here,” he apologized. “This is my fault.” _
> 
> _ “No, mine,” I assured him, because this was my idea, and I was so dreadfully selfish. “I couldn’t bear to see you married to another. No princess on earth will love you as I do,” I swore.  _
> 
> _ “Would you kill for me?” he asked. He seemed to be warring with himself, a decision close to his grasp.  _
> 
> _ I lunged for the bars, wanting to kiss him with all my might. “You know I would, my love. You know what I am. I'd die for you. I'd return to you and do it again. I'd suffer every torture to stay by your side.” _
> 
> _ He knows me as no one else loving does. He would do the same in return.  _
> 
> _ “Meet me in Eiselin,” he breathed. “I will take care of this.” _
> 
> _ He kissed me again and pushed away, undoing the cell locks and finding them already undone. I sent him a small laugh. “I only waited here for you,” I confessed.  _
> 
> _ “You villain, you let me kiss you through the bars,” he scolded, grinning helplessly. I held out my arms in apology and we embraced once more, for real this time.  _
> 
> _ “I'll be by your side soon,” I swore. I packed my things and teleported away into the night. Now I am holed up in a hovel outside an Eiselian village, penning these memories and trying to remember the warmth of my love, and not the cold steel of swords to my neck.  _
> 
> _ I would burn entire worlds for him, and I hope he knows it. I like to think he does.  _

More pages were removed by a deliberate hand. Yuuri huffed. The censorship was irritating, leaving vast gaps of information where Yuuri wanted to know more. 

Clearly this was not just anyone. This was someone very special to the prince. And the information was simply gone, as though future generations wouldn’t want to know what had happened. Irritated, Yuuri set the journal aside, picking up the other one. The entries were more patchy by far, but at least entire swaths of the journal weren’t deliberately removed. 

> **_Gilt Moon, 7th day, 790_ **
> 
> _ It has been a long few weeks. Grueling training has kept us on our toes and falling into our bunks. When we weren’t training, we were marching. But at last we have arrived, and we can begin to prepare for the mission ahead. _
> 
> _ The army has settled along the borders, waiting. They disgust us all. They are mostly skeletal in nature, most of the flesh rotted from animate bones. We hear the clattering of those bones in the night. The screaming from the cities has stopped. We must assume the vile lich has taken the vales and villages hostage. Otherwise we must fear the worst- and we do not want to imagine ghosts of empty villages. Even now, I must wonder how many innocents have been slain to supply the undead army we face.  _
> 
> _ We are waiting for the last of the reinforcements, but time is running short. We must strike soon if we want to defeat the lich and rescue the captured Prince. Gods have mercy on us all. I pray nightly and daily to Thorizen that we might make it out alive. We must defeat the monster. We must storm the castle before it is too late. _
> 
> **_Gilt Moon, 8th day, 790_ **
> 
> _ The Temple’s reinforcements have finally arrived. They crested the ridge around midday. Among them was a mage from Agoma, a grizzled old archmage who reeks of old books and herbs. He came with mixed news and vital information for the cause. We asked him what he knew, and I recorded it for future reference. I hope to copy the information into the book after dinner, but it is chilling news. We must find a thing known as a phylactery if we hope to defeat the lich. If it isn’t destroyed, he will simply return once more to life. It could be anything, something as small as a pebble tossed in an ocean, or as massive as the entirety of a mountain. The mage assured us he could find the phylactery, though we must first defeat the lich for him to do so. For the first time in months, I feel as though we have hope. _
> 
> **_A Guide to Liches_ **
> 
> _ If there is one thing more unspeakably vile than a necromancer, a practitioner of magics forbidden and verbotin regarding the threads of life and death, it is the next step beyond that: a lich. Only those who are liches themselves know the true process by which mortality is shed in favor of immortality. But rest assured it is something truly terrible, a corruption of the pure and bathed in the blood of the innocent.  _
> 
> _ Most texts agree the so-named Ceremony of Eternal Night entails the creation and subsequent consumption of a philter known as the Elixir of Defilation. The creation of this drink is a mystery, but it is an unspeakable horror. No goodness can remain in the heart of one who carries this ritual out.  _
> 
> _ When consumed, the potion kills the drinker. If done properly, the newly-created lich awakens some days later by virtue of a device of pure evil known as a phylactery. This device can take any form, great or small. A box lined with parchment and runes, a pebble, a gemstone, a mountain. These devices are not so simple to destroy by normal means, as the enchantments inside them run deep. Only powerful magic and enchanted weapons can reliably dispose of such enchantments.  _
> 
> _ If a lich is destroyed while this phylactery exists, they will reform near this device some days later, furious, bearing all his memories of his previous life. Because of this, they guard these treasures most preciously, with greater care than they guard even themselves.  _
> 
> _ The things are effectively immortal, skeletons with glowing eyes and dressed in rotted robes. Their horrifying visages can strike mortals with paralysis like death. Among their other powers, they are impervious to illness, poison, and other ailments of the living.  _
> 
> _ But their greatest gift is their terrible cunning and intelligence, given millenia to hone. This gives their magic great and terrible potential. They do not grow weaker with age, only stronger, always stronger. The sooner a lich is defeated, the better. _
> 
> **_Gilt Moon, 11th day, 790_ **
> 
> _ Our offensive has fully begun. It’s exhausting, and our spells are consistently depleted by mid-morning. We can only turn so many of the undead before more take their place, rising up and charging forward like ocean tides. We must sleep where and when we can. We never know if the Lich himself will attack. When he leaves his castle, he brings only destruction in his wake. _
> 
> **_Gilt Moon, 15th day, 790_ **
> 
> _ We are taking a short rest before attempting to breach the castle gates. Our numbers have dwindled. So many brave paladins have been lost in the name of war. The plan will be to free our prince, defeat the monster, and hunt down the phylactery before it is too late. It will not be an easy battle to win. _
> 
> _ I can only hope we make it out unscathed. _

The rest was empty, the pages crusty and brown, stained with ancient dried blood. Yuuri flipped through the rest, trying to find the rest of the story, but there was nothing. He couldn’t find even the slightest faded drop of ink past the final entry. 

It wasn’t enough. Yuuri pushed to his feet, thanking the innkeep for the meal and grabbed both journals, bringing them back to his room for safe-keeping. Someone had to know more, somewhere.

Yuuri tucked the books into the bag beside the amulet. Yuuri paused, and pulled the amulet out. It was remarkably well-preserved, just as the oil and journal had been. It was old, but not in the sense of it being worn. The symbol of Thorizen didn’t change often or in big ways, but there was a few unmistakable details that dated it. The glow, for instance, had only 4 beams of light, instead of the modern 15 that represented the countries following the teachings. 

Yuuri left everything but the soldier’s journal, unwilling to risk it outside. 

He grabbed his cloak and set out for the massive temple overlooking the city. The streets were teeming with people, but no one looked twice at Yuuri as he walked inside.

Statues of Thorizen looked down at him, a holy healer in gold raiment with a glow in his right hand and his left hand open, extended. Healing and forgiveness, core tenants of the faith. Beneath his foot was a skeleton, the skull being crushed underfoot.

Yuuri felt a little shudder ripple through him. He looked away quickly, hurrying deeper inside. Many within were kneeling before a central ikon of Thorizen. A priest in pale gold robes passed him by, hair grey and his beard midway down his chest, eyebrows bushy and wild above warm, silvery-colored eyes. 

“Excuse me,” Yuuri said. “Would you be able to help me with something?”

“Of course, young man,” the priest said, smiling. He clasped his hands together. “What can I do for you?”

“Do you know anything about the lich that came here a hundred years ago?” Yuuri asked, passing over the journal. 

The old man’s eyes widened in wonder. “My oh my, where did you find this?”

“A uh… I found it a few days ride from here. Small town, kept it in their family for years. Bought it for two silvers,” Yuuri lied quickly. The man didn't seem to care either way, as he eagerly, but carefully, flipped through the old pages.

“This is… incredible. Remarkably well preserved, for the time, I must say. And… ahh, I see,” the man finished, finding the abrupt conclusion. “I think I know why you came here.”

“So what happened? How did the battle turn out?” Yuuri asked. 

The Priest looked at the last page, considering his words carefully. “I do not know who it was who wrote this journal. I can hazard guesses, but without careful research it would be hard to know what happened to this particular paladin. Considering the circumstances, however, it was most likely he did not survive the battle.”

“Was Vi-” Yuuri broke off. The lich’s name was never mentioned in the journal, only ever in the spellbook. “Was the lich defeated?”

The priest smiled. “Not to worry, boy, the evil was defeated long, long ago. Though it is a tragic story. The paladins, according to history, breached the castle’s defenses. To their horror, they were set upon by the prince himself, bewitched by Lich’s evil magics. They say his eyes were glowing blue, and his magic was more powerful than anything they had ever seen. 

“They fought through the halls of the castle, and the battle led to the lich himself. The coward used the prince as a shield to finish a ritual he had begun when the castle was breached. The paladins were forced to use lethal force on the prince, his life sacrificed in the name of defeating the evil, and the lich was then killed as well.”

“But the book says he would have come back,” Yuuri said, pointing to the passage about the phylacteries. 

The priest shook his head. “Not to worry. It was taken care of, though at great cost. His ritual left a foul curse on the warriors who were present. When they returned to their temple, the curse became a plague, consuming a thousand and one souls before it was stopped. Some of our number survived, but many were lost. It is one of the darkest times in our history.”

“Where did they find it?” Yuuri asked. 

“That was a particularly disgusting joke,” the priest spit, suddenly looking quite infuriated. “The monster had placed his soul inside an amulet of Thorizen himself, and placed it on the Prince’s very neck. I'm sure he found it quite entertaining. We destroyed the artifact and restored peace to the land once more.”

“I see,” Yuuri said. “One more thing. Before he died… did the prince have a lover?”

The priest scratched his chin. “Not that we know of,” he said. “Why do you ask?” 

“No reason,” Yuuri said quickly. Behind him was another of the statues of Thorizen, staring down at him as though it knew what he had done, and what he was planning. “I think that was everything I wanted to know.”

“Would you be terribly offended if I asked… hmm… would you be willing to, perhaps, donate this to the church? It could prove quite valuable to our historians.”

Yuuri nodded, distracted. “Uh, yes, sure, it's  yours. Thank you for your time,” he said. He turned tail and walked quickly out of the temple, feeling an unsettling warmth trickle down his spine. 

Something about the story was odd. Things didn't add up. Even if pages were removed from the lover’s journal, it was clear that the book continued long beyond the last entry Yuuri had read. Whoever he was, he had loved the prince enough to go to prison for him, swore to die for him. And yet history didn't remember this person? 

Yuuri shook his head. It didn't matter either way. 

He had studying to do. 


End file.
